


Attempt #1

by adobe_beforeffects



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: All canon typcial body horror but a lot of body horror none the less, Body Horror, Drabble, Gen, Horror, In response to the prompt of Sammy's tranformation from his POV, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adobe_beforeffects/pseuds/adobe_beforeffects
Summary: All Sammy knows is that it's dark and it's cold and the grinding of the Machine is too close.





	Attempt #1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "You should totally also write Sammy becoming an ink person from Sammys perspective."
> 
> Follows [my headcanons about how the machine works](http://adobe-outdesign.tumblr.com/post/170240535270/headcanon-how-to-make-a-cartoon-with-the-ink) and [the idea that Sammy used to be Searcher who only managed to stabilize himself a bit later later on.](http://adobe-outdesign.tumblr.com/post/166052160823/sammy-took-the-perfect-boris-insides-to-fix)

It was quiet. Quiet and dark. Sammy struggled to turn his head, but he couldn’t even be sure if he was moving. He felt light, almost like he was floating, and his mind struggled to grasp what was happening. He could remember a… knife. Yes, there was a knife, and a rope, and Joey standing over him with the knife-

Yes, he could remember that.

Panic started to settle over him as his mind worked its way out of the haze it had entered. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t feel his body. Was he dead? This wasn’t right. There had to be _something,_ a sign, a light, a-

Something grabbed him. Started dragging him downward.

He tried to kick out, to free himself, but he couldn’t feel anything holding him, just the sensation of falling. Then it abruptly stops, and he could hear a voice. Then another voice. Then another. There were so many voices around him, screaming, calling for help, begging for someone to save them. He struggled to hold on to his thoughts, but they slipped away and joined with the masses, his mind fragmenting like a ceramic mug dropped against a cement floor _can’t move can’t see someone help where am I save me it hurts it hurts it_

And then there was one voice that was clear and as distinct as a ringing bell. The voice that he would later recognize as his Savior’s called to him, encouraging him to come up and pull himself away from the others. Sammy reached out for the voice, and the other voices faded, stopped, and suddenly he was free, crawling across the studio’s floorboards inch by inch.

He still couldn’t see, but he could hear. Joey called to him from somewhere in the room, and drowning out his voice was the deafening, grinding, screeching sound of the Ink Machine. It was close, too close. Was he under it?

There was something wrong with his body. He was freezing, as if someone had dunked him into a tub full of ice water moments ago, leaving something dripping off of him. He couldn’t feel any distinct parts of his body nor could he move his legs, and in a panic he wondered if he still had them at all. He couldn’t scream he couldn’t _breathe-_

The musician struggled to reach out an arm and he could feel his body twist, melt, reform itself like soft clay. The sensation sent a sudden shock wave of pain through him, and he tried to cry out only to realize he no longer had a mouth. He could feel his thoughts slipping away as his body becomes more and more solid, newly formed flesh warping and changing shape as he struggled to stabilize into something. For a second his vision returned, and he could see Joey kneeling in the front of the room, watching, and he could see his own gloved hand gripping the floorboards in pain. And then the glove turned grey, then black, then melted away entirely, and the rest of his body followed suit.

His inky flesh softened, dripped down, merged back into the puddle of ink that used to be his body. He panicked, clutched at his face as it softened and deformed, only to feel his hands sink in and merge with what used to be his head. Sammy gives one final, desperate attempt at crawling out of the puddle before his body gives one last shudder and collapses entirely, splattering against the floor. The screaming voices return, and he screams along with them.

Meanwhile, Joey Drew stands up, wipes his hands off on his pants, and mutters something about how the next attempt will turn out better.


End file.
